


I've Got This Friend (Cullen/Trevelyan one-shots)

by Amethyst_owl



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst_owl/pseuds/Amethyst_owl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff, Angst and Smut for our lovely Commander and his Inquisitor, Allegra Trevelyan.</p><p>1. Sleight of Hand (Fluff)<br/>2. A Touch of Expertise (Fluff)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleight of Hand

“Stop it!” Allegra giggles as the Commander’s hands dance across her stomach. “That tickles! _Stop!_ ”

“Are you backing down?” Cullen whispers in her ear, his hands slipping beneath her shirt to tickle her again. She squeals, wriggling out of his grip and nearly falling off the bed.

“Never,” she laughs, attacking his sides with deft fingers. Nobody but her knows how ticklish he is – her strong, stoic Commander is almost bent double with laughter as her hands ghost across his sides and stomach.

Neither of them know how it started (or when it will end) but they’ve been embroiled in this tickle-fight for a fair few minutes, and Allegra’s fairly sure she has business to attend to and Cullen has reports to write but _neither of them care_.

It is warm, and the soft  afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains as they ripple gently in the breeze. The door is locked - _Maker knows what this must sound like from the outside_  - and her companions at least know better than to interrupt (although she is still recovering from that one time Sera picked the lock and found her practicing the lute wearing nothing but her smallclothes).

She smiles at Cullen. His curls are messy and unruly, and the tiredness in his face has disappeared. He is happy, and so is she.

“Allegra Ophelia Trevelyan,” he wheezes between snatched breaths. “You’re **_evil_**.”

“I know,” she shrugs, lunging at him again. They fall back hard against the pillows, Allegra landing atop the Commander’s muscled chest. His eyes are beautiful up close, like amber and honey and sunlight. They are kind and sincere, and they’re staring into hers with a love that makes her heart melt. Her lips meet his, and he reaches up to cup her cheek. His fingers are rough from years of swordfighting, but his touch is tender and soft. She smiles, her own fingers caressing his strong jaw.

And suddenly she’s knocked sideways by a pillow to the temple.

“Andraste’s knickers, Cullen!” she hisses, grabbing another pillow and returning the blow. “That’s **_cheating_**!”

Cullen smirks.

“Tell me, Inquisitor…what are you going to do about it?”

The dark look in her eyes is enough to tell Cullen _exactly_ what she’s going to do about it.

And when the light fades and the stars emerge, they are tangled in the sheets and dishevelled and breathing heavily, but for an entirely different reason.


	2. A Touch of Expertise

Cullen grips the edge of the War Table hard, trying his hardest not to give in to the pain that rips through his head. He notices the concern that spreads across Allegra’s face, but they both know she can do nothing – not yet. Nobody knows of their relationship – _although he’s sure that Leliana and Josephine **must** have noticed something by now_ – and he’d prefer to keep it that way for a while, especially in front of the visitors they’re currently meeting with. She inches closer to him, leaning over the map and gesturing to one of the markers. She’s talking to the visitors, but he can’t make out a word she’s saying. Her free hand finds his under the table, and she squeezes it gently before carrying on with her conversation.

The talks end, and Josephine ushers the visitors out. She and Leliana will keep them company, chatting over spiced wine and cakes, and he’s sure Allegra’s needed too but she’s the Inquisitor and they daren’t argue with her.

“Is it…” she asks quietly, reaching up to touch his face. Her hands are cool and soft, a welcome sensation that lessens the pain a little.

“Yes,” he groans. “It’s been bad for a while…”

“You should have said something,” she replied. “You’re sick, Cullen.”

“It…it was an important meeting. I didn’t want to interrupt—“ Cullen sways violently, and Allegra barely manages to steady him before he hits the floor. His eyes are dazed, unfocused, and a light sheen of sweat covers his forehead. He tries to regain his balance, stumbling and falling to his knees.

“Guards!” she calls. “Some assistance here, please!”

“Allegra—“

“Don’t argue with me, Commander. Please.”

Accompanied by a pair of guards, Allegra manages to get the Commander safely to her chambers – they’re closer than his, and safer – the hole in his roof is still wide open, and with the rain coming every other hour it wouldn’t be a good place for him to rest. She carefully removes his armour, gently setting the pieces out on a table by the window, and tucks him in. She takes a soft cloth, and dips it into the bowl of cold water placed on the bedside table. He moans quietly as she lays it across his forehead, his eyes closing.

She stays with him as he rests, her fingers interlaced with his as she watches his chest rise and fall. He is at peace for once - no nightmares plague his sleep. And when he wakes, it is with a smile.

“Allegra,” he smiles sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

“These are my chambers,” she replies. “Yours weren’t safe for you, and they were further away anyway.”

“I…I owe you my thanks, Allegra.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Cullen,” she plants a kiss on his forehead. “I love you, and all that matters to me is your safety. Can you sit up?”

“Yes,” he says. “The pain’s almost gone.”

“Good.”

She moves behind him, pulling him back to rest his shoulders against her chest. Her fingers gently spread against his scalp, moving in small circles. His hair is soft, the curls slipping easily through her fingers as she works.

“Makers breath, Allegra,” he groans. “Where do you learn these things…?”

“I’ve always been good with my hands,” Allegra smirks. Cullen practically snorts with laughter.

“Very true,” he muses. “I can’t argue with that.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she kisses the top of his head, her hands moving down to work their magic on his shoulders.

“Also true,” Cullen chuckles, his laugh deep and rich.

It is a beautiful sound, and one that Allegra will never grow tired of hearing.


End file.
